


Thinking About You

by sonotadream



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-07-03 22:31:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15828243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonotadream/pseuds/sonotadream
Summary: Grantaire is obsessed with a certain feature of Combeferre's.





	Thinking About You

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Season of Kink Bingo - the prompt was Size Kink

Grantaire has been thinking about it for some time now. Sometimes, he really can't think of anything else. So, more like obsessing about it.

The thing is, he noticed Combeferre's groin one day, for one reason or another (he was looking; the reason was that he was looking) and now he knows Combeferre has a big cock. 

And Grantaire's certain he knows this because he kept looking and noticed things, like the way Combeferre sits with his legs always apart and the fitting of his pants. It's very distracting, specially because he doesn't know what to do with this knowledge. 

Or, to put it in a better way, he knows what he wants to do, he just doesn't know how to go about it. 

He thinks about Combeferre's cock a lot. If it's really that big. What does it look like. What does it look like when erect. Would it be too big to fit in his hand? In his mouth? His... Those last thoughts, he tries to save for when he's alone.

But he really wants to fuck Combeferre (or, being more accurate, for Combeferre to fuck him).

The solution comes to him one night, after several weeks of agony ( _solitary_ agony). He's walking away from a fight - nothing serious, simply one of the hazards of hanging out with Bahorel in places where one can also find royalists. They had to run and Grantaire turned the wrong way and he lost Bahorel. He's not worried - Bahorel won't be either and they can both take care of themselves, but it would be nice if there was someone around to help him bandage his knuckles.

The thought just comes to him in a flash of inspiration: he should ask Combeferre.

Yes, Combeferre is just the man for the job. He's a medical student, he'll appreciate the chance to practice on a live patient, Grantaire's the one doing him a favour!

Grantaire doesn't let the late hour dissuade him from knocking on Combeferre's door. Since he opens rather quickly (in his shirtsleeves and with his cravat undone, no less), Grantaire feels free to assume he isn't imposing at all. It's clear he wasn’t even sleeping.

Combeferre takes Grantaire explanations in stride. He looks over Grantaire's knuckles, cleans them and applies some salve. He then looks over Grantaire's torso, after some insistence (and because Grantaire takes his shirt off before Combeferre can protest).

“There's a few bruises, but nothing's broken,” Combeferre says.

"Thank you. Sorry for the late hour," Grantaire says, belatedly. Now is the time to start ingratiating himself, he decides. Helpfully, they’re already sitting on the bed.

He places a hand on Combeferre's shoulder. When he's not rebuffed, he leans forward and kisses Combeferre. Nothing too forward, just a peck on the lips. He doesn't want to give Combeferre too much of a reason to throw him out.

Unfortunately, Combeferre doesn't kiss him back. He pulls away. "What are you doing?" His voice is soft, not accusatory, which Grantaire takes as a good sign.

"Showing my appreciation. Obviously," Grantaire says. He leans forward again, catches Combeferre's mouth briefly, and moves on to his jaw and then his neck.

"Obviously," Combeferre repeats. He makes no effort to push him away, which Grantaire takes as permission to start unbuttoning his waistcoat. "I'm sure you can think of other ways to do that?"

"No, not really." Grantaire opens Combeferre's shirt, just enough to lick a bit of exposed skin. “Not better, anyway,” he adds, with a quick smile.

"Grantaire..." It sounds like a sigh and Combeferre doesn't continue.

Grantaire slides to the floor in front of him and settles between his legs. "Yes?"

Combeferre shakes his head. "Nothing." He sounds more resigned than anything, which Grantaire doesn't appreciate at all. He's not about to have mediocre sex. And neither is Combeferre, if he has a say in it. 

So, he goes back to the matter at hand and starts to work on Combeferre’s trousers, undoing the buttons one by one. He looks up at Combeferre, but can't tell what he's thinking - there's a soft look in his eyes and a funny smile in his lips. 

Still, he makes no sign to stop him and Grantaire turns his attention to the way Combeferre's cock seems to be straining against his clothes. He finishes with the buttons, pulls the shirt-tails out of the way, and there it is.

Even half flaccid, Combeferre's cock doesn't fail to impress. Long and thick, Grantaire's hand barely wraps around the base. He strokes it carefully, slowly, wanting to see how big it grows. It'll be hard to fit it entirely in his mouth, but Grantaire is more than ready to give it a try. 

He leans forward, the base held firmly in his hand (it wraps around it, barely), and carefully licks the tip, swirling his tongue around, playing with the foreskin. He takes the head into his mouth and sucks lightly. He keeps going until the cock it's firm and hard, curving gracefully upwards. He takes more into on his mouth then, going a little further down every time.

It barely fits in his mouth, so Grantaire pulls back for a moment, going down the side of the shaft with his tongue while he reassesses his strategy. He looks up at Combeferre, who has his eyes closed, but a rather content expression, which makes Grantaire satisfied. “Still regretting opening the door?” he asks. 

That makes Combeferre smile. He pats Grantaire’s head. “Never stopped.” He grabs Grantaire’s hair and pushes his head down onto his cock. Not too forcefully, but enough to make a point. 

Grantaire obliges him and takes his cock in his mouth again. Fitting Combeferre's cock into his mouth is still proving quite the challenge. He keeps pushing on, taking as much as he can, even if his lips are stretched thin already. 

He pulls back a moment, to regain his breath. He strokes Combeferre’s cock a few times and plays with Combeferre's balls to stall for time. When he gets back to the main task, he manages to swallow further down, once, twice, until, finally, he can feel the cock hitting the back of his throat and his lips brush the hand still holding the base.

Grantaire hums around the cock, which makes Combeferre twitch and emit a low sound (giving Grantaire more reason to be satisfied). Grantaire pulls out and goes back in. He can’t take much more of Combeferre’s cock, but he keeps going up and down, stroking the underside with his thumb at the same time. Combeferre’s hand is back on his head, holding him down just a bit too long every time he swallows.

Grantaire has to focus on getting his breathing right. He doesn't know how serious Combeferre is about keeping him down (maybe Grantaire did wake him up after all).

He starts looking for signs Combeferre is ready to come. He's not as expressive as Grantaire imagined, but he can search for a twitch in his hips, a tensing of the hand holding him. When Combeferre mutters "Fuck," Grantaire is ready.

He takes him as deep as he can, uses his hand to massage Combeferre's cock and swallows every last drop of warm come that drips down his throat.

It’s a shame it's over, but the spent expression in Combeferre's face is quite worth it. Grantaire can bask in his handiwork for a nice moment, until Combeferre looks down at him. “Well, that was something.”

“You know, I was expecting more effusive words of praise,” Grantaire says, sitting up next to him. “That was a damn good blow job.”

Combeferre pulls him into a kiss, which is rather nice of him. It’s also nice when he reaches for Grantaire's cock. He expertly opens the buttons and cups Grantaire's cock in his hand. Grantaire does most of the work, rubbing himself in Combeferre's hand with urgency. He finishes rather quickly and Combeferre cleans his hand in his own shirt.

“See, that was a perfectly serviceable hand job, if only-”

Combeferre interrupts him by covering his mouth with his hand. “Grantaire, do you want to try and find your way home at this hour?”

“What? You would turn me away-”

“Grantaire.” There’s a note of warning in Combeferre’s voice and Grantaire takes it.

“Sorry,” he says, with a sheepish smile. “Do you mind if I spend the night?”

“No.”

“Great, because I know the best place to have breakfast around here. They made these croissants so buttery that just melt on your mouth. You’ll be thanking me for days.”

Combeferre looks a little sceptic about this, but Grantaire doesn’t press the issue. Not yet. He’ll show Combeferre, and then he’ll get another opportunity with Combeferre’s cock.


End file.
